Times of war
by Mac Gustah
Summary: This is a based on a multiplayer game I had with a friend that seemed like I could get a nice story out of it. The Carthaginians have declared war and Sweden must hold the enemy off, but can they? will they prevail and rise from the ashes of a battered land? follow the story of the first great war from the eyes of Marcus Hallsman.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome. For you who have no idea wtf this is about, it's about a game, Civilizations 5, it's alternate history so don't be freaked out if Presia and sweden are allies. This is a story based roughly on a particular multiplayer game I had with a friend. I am trying out some new writing techniques, so is may seem a little strange to the people comming from DoN or Scoped.**

**I hope you enjoy this story, it's just somethin' I felt like writing after a _very_ boring schoolday. **

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~Chapter 1~

_January 14, Sigtuna_

_We have finally reached the front lines and believe me when I say the situation is dire. Our forces are outnumbered 3 to 1. The only thing that is keeping the enemy from advancing is the rough terrain._

_We hold fortifications on strategic positions while catapults bombards the enemy from behind our lines._

_I fear for the inhabitants of Sigtuna and if reinforcements from Stockholm and Persia don't come soon the city will surely fall_

_February 3, Sigtuna_

_We have been pushed back to the city. The walls are still standing strong and our archers fire at the enemy below while the swordsmen fight in the fields below. _

_After me and my company were lead into an ambush by a traitor, we are tasked to defend and patrol the city as I only have 38 men left, to small of a group to fight efficiently on the fields below._

_It bothers me still, the lives that were lost under my command._

_F__ebruary 19, Sigtuna_

_We are restless. We have gotten word from Stockholm that the Persians have finally mobilised and are marching as I am writing this._

_We have learned a lot of the Carthaginian forces; while they are numerous, they are poorly trained and probably just levees from the towns and cities. _

_We may still have a chance in this war_

_February 25, Sigtuna_

_Reinforcements have arrived! The Swedish army has come. They have driven the enemy back, forcing them to lift the siege. They are camped in the northern plains and we will join up once we have finished reinforcing my company._

_When we join up with the main army, we will march on Saguntum. The Persian army will meet us there. Today was the day the scales tipped._

_March 1, Great plains north of Sigtuna_

_We have broken camp and are now marching north. Some of the men have received crossbows, a new invention from Stockholm. It is a ballistae but so small you can hold it in your hands._

_The catapults have also been replaced, they call them trebuchets. Giant wooden machines that can hurl rocks faster and further than our old catapults._

_We have received better armour, some even plate! Most of us have been given chainmail, but that still is a large improvement from the studded leather we used to wear._

_The cavalry has been going in raids, both to enemy villages and supply trains to cripple their economy and war machine._

_I've also received word from my brother, he has signed up to the navy and serves on one of the new ships from Helsinki._

_Soon we will bring the fight to Carthage._

_April 3, Siege-camp around Saguntum_

_We have met up with the Persian army and are besieging Saguntum. Our trebuchets are breaking down their walls and soon we will be able to assault the city._

_The jungle around here is full of mosquitos. I hope we won't be around her for long._

_April 10, siege-camp_

_The walls are breached! We will assault the city on the morrow. I fear for the innocent people that are within the city, a soldier in a conquered city is a danger to all._

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As Marcus Hallsman finished the last sentence, he closed his journal and walked out of his tent.

Everywhere men were readying themselves for the battle, men were praying to Guhst and Matana to keep them safe, Persians and a few converted Swedish soldiers were praying to Yiaj and some were cleaning their steel swords with a religious vigour, their shields painted with the sigil of their company, a white eagle on an orange background.

But one thing was common in all of their faces. Fear, anxiety, dread. He kept his face void of all emotion, but everyone knew that he felt it worse than any of them, for these 150 brave souls were under his command. Everyone in the company knew he took each loss of life under his command as if it was one of his family members.

That was what had made him so popular, he had been in the army since his twentieth birthday and had climbed the ranks fast. He had been in the army for seven years and had proven himself a good leader. He led his men in an barbarian ambush after their officers had been killed and prevailed in numerous skirmish.

Now it was time to speak to his men, the men that would live fight and die under his orders.

He looked at the 150 men in front of him. He saw the more battle hardened veterans throughout the group and looked all 38 men in the eyes. Each ne had a mix of glee and melancholy in them.

Then he looked at the new recruits, they were all young men that had joined their ranks after the victory at Sigtuna. He had lost so many there.

"Men of Sweden, today we will fight for our fatherland, the land these Carthaginian dogs thought they could simply take! We take revenge for those who have fallen in the ambush!" to that everyone, and the veterans loudest of all, cheered. "But," he put his hand up and the crowd became silent again. "there are women and children in that city. I will tell you the terms of serving under me; you will _NOT_ rape the girls and women, you will _NOT_ kill unarmed civilians and if an enemy is to surrender you will take him captive. You can plunder what you want, but be aware. If you break this rule, you are no longer part of this company and will be stripped of rank, title and will receive a beating from your fellow soldiers. Do I make myself clear?" the new recruits looked at their captain a bit stunned of the harsh punishment but nodded after a while.

"I said, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!" the young captain continued his speech after al loud affirmative from all soldiers.

"This morning you will show your true bravery, your true fighting skills, today you will fight for Sweden, for the king, for your family!"

A loud cheering came from the 150 men in front of him once again.

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**Please tell me what you thought and what I can improve.**

**bye! or as they say in Sweden: ...Bye! -_-'**


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome back! Even though not many people actually read this story, but I felt like writing another chapter. I wrote this about a month ago, Enjoy.**

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~chapter 2~

The sound of the walls collapsing was deafening. Armed men rushed to the breach to stop enemy attackers.

To the thirteen year old Maira no-name it was like a thunder. The soldier's spiked boots stamping on the wide roads towards the breach, Carthaginian knights on their large warhorses galloping to halt the enemy.

Her grip tightened around her trusty dagger, her only fried in her life as a street urchin. It had served her well over the years and it would serve her well again.

She could hear the screams of men dying and the clanging of steel on steel as swords, spears and axes met.

She knew it was probably best to run to the castle and seek refuge, but something kept her there, standing on the side of the road. The blue and red flags of the Kingdom of Sweden and the Persian Empire waved proudly over the attacking soldiers.

She could see the walls and towers. Persians and Sweeds were streaming off ladders and out of siege towers. Some of the white and purple flags that used to be on the towers were being replaced with red and blue ones.

The girl snapped out of the trance that kept her on her place and turned around to head for the castle. She ran through the narrow alleys that had been her home for years, only to end up on a road where Swedish soldiers were fighting a local militia group that clearly didn't stand a chance against the better armed attackers.

As the last of the militia group were killed or taken captive she turned around to run the other way, but was seen by three Swedish men looking more like criminals than soldiers that immediately gave chase of the girl, shouting something in their language which seemed almost happy.

She ran through the alleys once again, but she couldn't shake them, for the siege on the city had caused the food to run out and people were living off meager rations, causing her to be underfed.

She turned a corner. _Oh no._ She thought. It was a dead end. The three men slowly approached her as she backed up more and more until she couldn't go any further. She cried for help but doubted that anyone would come to her aid.

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Marcus wiped the blood off his sword with a patch of cloth he had cut from one of the enemy soldiers tunics.

They were making significant progress in the south while the Persians attacked from the north. In the west was a great lake, if it hadn't been filled with fresh water it could have classified as a sea, so attack from that direction was impossible. The east was assaulted by a mixed force of both Swedish and Persian soldiers.

"Sigmund, take the archers and crossbowmen and take positions on the roofs. Algruff, I want you to take 30 men and secure the western alleys. I will keep the rest to hold our position. Dismissed." the young commander ordered and his two most trusted lieutenants left to do their respective tasks.

He had lost only a few of his men in the assault, he had 134 men left and all the veterans had survived.

He took a sip from his water bag and passed it on to the soldier next to him who gave him a thankful look and drank some water as well.

And then he heard a scream. It was the scream of a girl, which in war, usually meant only one thing.

"Mathias, take command until I return." He motioned at a group ten of his men, all loyal to the bone and hurried into the alleyways while putting on his great helmet.

They heard another cry, this time they could make out the Phoenician word for "Help!" and quickened their pace.

When they turned a corner they saw it was a dead end with at the end three Swedish men and a girl, perhaps thirteen- fourteen years old.

A dagger lay on the cobbles and one of the men had pushed the girl against the wall.

"Get away from her and back to your posts soldiers." He said from under his helmet and all three men turned around, giving the girl the chance to kick the one that was holding her in the crotch. He let go of her arm and she quickly picked her dagger up and backed off as far as she could, dagger raised in a defensive stance.

"I said get back to your posts soldiers." Marcus said again, with the smallest hint of anger in his voice.

"An' why shouldn't we get some fun capt'n? We've bin fightin' hard ya know." The apparent leader of the three said.

"Because I say so. Now. Get. Back. To. Your. Posts." He said as he drew his heavy bastard sword out of it scabbard a couple centimeters.

Two of them got the hint and slowly backed away from the girl to resume their duties.

The leader was outraged. He drew his arming sword and charged the captain in front of him.

Hallsman kept calm and simply sidestepped the charge, making the man stumble and fall to the ground.

He drew his sword and hit the man on the temple with the pommel, rendering him unconscious.

"You two," he said, pointing at two of his soldiers, "tie him up and take him back to camp, he'll be court-martialed for ignoring orders and attacking a superior officer."

While the unconscious man was being dragged away, he turned to the girl.

* * *

She was slowly backing away, not sure what to think of the man that had just saved her. It was clear that he was some sort of commander. His voice carried a tone of authority, even while she couldn't understand it.

She saw her assaulter being dragged away by two soldiers. The man that had saved he had easily knocked him out and now he was looking at her, sword still in his hand.

She looked at the weapon and raised her dagger a bit further, trying to look confident. Which was a useless endeavor, since her hand was shaking heavily.

He saw what she was looking at and slowly put his sword on the ground. She looked wearily at him. the Carthaginian government had always said that the Swedish were ruthless savages, barbarians that would kill without remorse, but these soldiers had just saved her and their leader had just put his sword on the ground. She lowered her dagger, but didn't sheathe it.

The man slowly put his hands to his helmet and lifted it off his head, revealing a surprisingly young man with dark blue eyes and dirty blond hair.

"I not Hurt you, not be scared." He said in heavily accented Phoenician while putting his great helmet next to his sword on the ground.

He slowly approached her, "My name is Marcus, your name?" he asked.

"Maira." She said with a small voice.

He put a hand in a pouch on his belt and pulled out a piece of bread. "Are you hungry Maira?" he asked and she was about to say no, but then her stomach rumbled loudly and she took the food.

One of the other men said something and Marcus turned around. He picked up the sword and helmet. She didn't want him to go, but before she could say anything he turned to her and said one word. "Come."

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**I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


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